


You're Never Gonna Be Alone

by bryzknowstheuniverse



Series: You're Never Gonna Be Alone [1]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: And all possible warnings, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Developing Relationship, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mike Hanlon deserves the fucking world, Past Bill Denbrough/Beverly Marsh, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Tagging all characters who are referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-05 12:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12794727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryzknowstheuniverse/pseuds/bryzknowstheuniverse
Summary: The Denbrough house became cold and dead as soon Georgie’s death was confirmed, a year and a half later Bill is still struggling to deal with his grief, anxiety and mounting depression. Mike Hanlon knows how it feels to loose someone you love so dearly and feel like you could have done more to save them. There’s comfort in numbers.





	1. Silence and Delivery Routes

**January 1991**

 

Bill hated silence. He would take vicious screaming and biting comments over the static void that allowed his thoughts to swarm him in neverending fits of anxiety. Unfortunately for Bill, cold silence was all there was in the Denbrough house nowadays.

The hostility had first appeared when Georgie was still considered missing. As his parents’ hope weaned, the cold reality sunk in that their precious little boy would never return home. As more and more time passed, both Denbrough parents expressed their resentment of any form of hope that Bill was able to hold onto. His father was especially violent in his distaste.

Bill could handle his father verbally tearing him apart. He could handle the swings of fists that his father would take at him in a fit of despair or rage. What he couldn’t handle was the deafening pain of silence. Of his parents not caring about him anymore, too consumed with the pain of their lost child to see the deterioration of the son who was still alive and in their home.

When Georgie’s body was found due to the brave efforts of the Loser’s Club the silence became permanent. It was as if an Arctic chill had taken over the whole Denbrough house. Now a year and a half later, Bill wasn’t sure if he could accurately identify the last time one of his parents actively tried to talk to him. They mainly avoided the boy all together, grunting or sighing if any contact was made at all.

Bill trudged through the snow that blanketed most of Derry on his way home from school. The cold moisture seeped into his converse, causing a physical numbness to join the numb mental state he faced every day. Bill put on a front as best as he could at school, unwilling to dump more emotional baggage on his friends. He knew without a doubt that all of the emotional trauma that IT had caused him and his fellow Losers was his fault. He should have gone alone. He would have died, but then again Bill couldn’t bring himself to think that his death would be a bad thing. Surely it would beat the cold still silence of his house now. Of course this was yet another thought that he kept tucked away from his friends. He saved these thoughts for when he was alone in his room, a spare razor blade held between his thumb and pointer finger. He couldn’t ever actually bring himself to do it. To end it all. He would add three superficial lines to his collection, but never added enough pressure to do what would be necessary to be done with the world. He guessed that meant that he was even more of a coward.

Bill stopped as he reached his house, taking in the sad sight that laid before him. The house was dead, Bill thought. The people who lived inside were a form of dead as well, had been for a long time. Bill couldn’t bring himself to continue up the walkway to his house. He didn’t want to be there. Couldn’t stand the slow burning torture that the house held. He did not know how long he had stood in the freezing weather staring at his childhood home, but was pulled suddenly out of thought when a strong hand pressed into his shoulder, causing him to jump.

“S-sh-shit,” Bill exclaimed when he turned and saw the guilty face of the owner of the hand, “You sc-scared me, M-mike.” Bill mentally berated himself for the stuttering, yet another thing he did wrong.

“Sorry, Big Bill. I tried calling your name a few times, but you were pretty out of it.” Mike Hanlon says in his calming voice, each word carefully formed. He offers Bill a warm smile and Bill can feel himself relaxing and allowing one corner of his mouth to pull up as well. “Do you want to come with me on my delivery run? I sure could use someone to keep me company and distract me from this hellishly cold weather.”

Mike could sense that there was still something off about his friend. He had watched Bill spiral slowly, it was understandable, what with the trauma that he had been through. Mike understood, losing his parents caused unbearable pain. He would never say that he knew exactly what Bill was going through, but he understood how horrible and intense the pain of losing someone you loved could be. He wished that he could take some of Bill’s pain away.

“S-sure. I can keep you c-compan-y.” Mike smiled at the response, glad to have company and to be able to attempt to crack into the hard shell that had become Bill Denbrough.

They chatted back and forth as they walked through downtown Derry, dropping off slabs of meat at different businesses. Nothing too deep, just the easy back and forth of seasoned friends. When they had made their last drop, Mike guided them towards the local diner. He let a sigh of relief pass through his mouth as the warmth of the interior of the old building took over his body, the look on Bill’s face conveyed the same relief. They slid into a vinyl booth in the back away from most of the other customers. Mike took in the appearance of his friend as he stripped himself of his coat, gloves, hat, and scarf. Bill’s ears and nose were tinged red. A stark contrast against his pale skin. Also a stark contrast against his skin were the purple bags visible under his eyes. He diverted his attention quickly when Bill looked up at him, a slight look of confusion crossing his features. Mike scrambled to find a way to break the weird tension that had formed.

“So! How’s school? Did you get your marks back for that short story that you were working on?” Mike said just a touch too enthusiastically, fiddling with the menu so that he has something to do with his hands.

“Oh. N-no. That w-wasn’t actually f-for sch-school,” Bill murmured as he blushed, his nerves getting the best of him after having forgotten that he had mentioned that to Mike, “I-it was j-ju-just something that I w-was worrk-ing on.”

“That’s cool.” Mike responded nodding, “Well if you ever want someone to read over it, I’d be happy to do so. You’re a terrific writer, Bill.” This caused Bill to blush even more. Mike was so genuine in every single way, his words made Bill tingle all over, sparks of feeling alive igniting ever so slightly. He shook the thoughts out of his head and nodded slightly, not trusting his voice. Mike took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “B-bill.” He choked out a bit, he cursed himself and let out a cough to clear his voice, the started again. “You know, Bill, I’m here. If you ever need someone, to talk to or just to sit with so you aren’t by yourself. Whenever you need it, I’m here. I know that things aren’t great at your house, but you are always welcome at mine.” Mike finished softly, not wanting to scare Bill away or come off too strong. “There’s comfort in numbers you know.”

Bill didn’t get a chance to respond to what Mike had just put on the table because a slobbery kiss was being pressed to his cheek with a loud smack by none other than Richie Tozier as the rest of their club slid in to join them in the booth, breaking Bill and Mike’s moment. Bill didn’t know whether to be thankful for his friends for the interruption,  knowing that he wasn’t ready to come clean about the thoughts that plagued his mind, or angry that they had broken such a powerful moment with Mike.

He looked across the table and Mike shot him a look, conveying that he was sincere and that he fully intended to finish this conversation some other time. Bill sighed and nodded to let Mike know that he understood and appreciated him.


	2. Short Stories and Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Denbrough house became cold and dead as soon Georgie’s death was confirmed, a year and a half later Bill is still struggling to deal with his grief, anxiety and mounting depression. Mike Hanlon knows how it feels to loose someone you love so dearly and feel like you could have done more to save them. There’s comfort in numbers.

**May 1991**

Bill pedaled Silver up the dirt road that led to the Hanlon farm. He had been doing this more and more frequently as of late. He had somewhat taken Mike up on his offer, they never actually spoke of feelings, but Bill felt more comfortable sprawled out on Mike’s bedroom floor doing his homework than he would at home. His house hadn’t thawed even as the ice and snow in Derry had, it was chilly as ever. Bill’s father had taken to not coming home for days on end. He had heard his mother crying on many of those occasions and Bill pitied her. She had lost what she considered to be her whole world. Even though she neglected and left Bill alone, she was still his mother and he felt deeply sorry for her.

Bill hopped off his bike and carefully leaned it against the porch. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the door. Despite coming here so frequently that Mike’s grandparents had made him his own key, Bill didn’t feel comfortable abandoning his manners and barging in. Mike rolled his eyes when he opened the door but smirked nonetheless at Bill’s insitant formality. Bill’s presence was very much calming for Mike as well, he wasn’t lying when he said there was comfort in numbers. He headed to the kitchen for snacks while Bill made his way down the hall to his bedroom.

Mike wasn’t surprised to see Bill spread out across his bed when he walked through the door a few minutes later, but his breath did catch a bit at the sight. Bill’s shirt had risen up ever so slightly showing a strip of pale skin and his jutting hipbone. He had a pencil in his hand, tapping it lightly against his chin, his soft pink tongue slipped slightly out of his mouth as he focused on something he had written in his journal. If Mike hadn’t been balancing two glasses and a bowl of chips he would have pinched himself, because surely this wasn’t his life. People like him weren’t graced with the pure perfection of the sight in front of him. He shook his head and attempted to clear the thoughts that he shouldn’t be having about his friend.

Bill looked up with a smile as he heard Mike approach. He quickly grabbed one of the glasses of soda and the bowl. Settling back against the headboard with his legs tucked under himself, scooching over to make sure that Mike had room to be comfortable.

“I th-think I’m ready f-for you to read it.” Bill said, taking a deep breath. He was referring to his latest short story that he had been working on for the past month and a half. Mike would sit and read whatever classic novel he had acquired from the library that week while Bill wrote in his journal, working to perfect every last detail. Peacefully respecting each other's quiet time. It was one of their many routines, formed so easily around their mutual need for the physical presence of each other.

“Are you sure, Bill? I mean I’m honored, but I don’t want to pressure you if you’re not ready.” Mike said sincerely, concern written on his features. Bill ducked his head a bit, blushing as he thought of another situation where Mike could utter those words to him. Bill should know better by now, he wouldn’t usually let himself go there, Mike was his friend, and he was just so starved for any affection due to his parents’ neglect that he was placing extra feelings on top of his friendship. He needed to control his emotions more.

“Of course, Mike. I trust you.” Bill assured softly, his nerves calm as truth poured out. Mike beamed at him in response, he slipped his arm around Bill and pulled him in for a side hug, those words meant everything to Mike. Bill didn’t talk freely about his feelings and Mike didn’t push, he always assumed that when Bill was ready to let him in and talk through everything that he would let him know. Trusting him to read something that he had put so much effort and time into was a step in the right direction.

Bill handed his journal over to Mike and pulled his Algebra homework out of his backpack, happy to have a distraction to avoid obsessing over every possible reaction Mike had to his writing. He tried so hard to focus on the polynomials, but every once in awhile he would look over to the other boy, anxious to know what he thought. The story was the most personal that he had ever written, and he was choosing to share it. Bill had wanted to confide in Mike for a long time, since that day in the diner in January, but he just couldn’t bring himself to verbally push the words out. His writing was a safe place where he could get all of the thoughts out and then push them along. He didn’t have to worry about stuttering through his thoughts, on paper they were clear and concise.

Mike took his time, pouring over every single word, wanting to do complete justice to the work that Bill had put into this. The story was about Georgie. Mike’s heart throbbed at the juxtaposition of passages that centered around happy moments, like when the Denbrough parents had walked through the door with a yellow wrapped bundle in their arms and introduced a squishy red faced Georgie to Bill for the first time, to the heartbreaking tale of the moments following the realization that Georgie was missing. He felt the pain that Bill faced on a daily basis, the neglect, the guilt. Mike knew that Bill couldn’t have done anything more to save Georgie. No one expected a demonic clown to hunt down the children of Derry, it was unfathomable. He did more than anyone could expect, he hunted the bastard down and united his friends, banishing their fear and sending that motherfucker Pennywise away, starving and unsatisfied. But that was Bill Denbrough for you, a hero, determined to find truth and fight for those he loves. Mike came to the end of the story, tears filling his soft brown eyes. He understood why Bill wouldn’t talk about Georgie, why it was easier to save those thoughts for himself. He looked up, Bill was focused on a particularly tricky question, and Mike thought that his heart might actually beat out of his chest. He waited until the other boy appeared to have solved the problem and reached forward and grabbed one of Bill’s hands, holding it gently with his own two hands, and pulling the other boy’s attention to him.

“Thank you.” He said softly, a few tears escaped his eyes and fell down his cheeks. Bill nodded, his blue eyes welling up as well. He reached forward and wrapped his arms around Mike’s torso, and the two held on for dear life, releasing their shared guilt and pain.

 

Mike wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, he woke up to a nearly dark room, the only source of light coming from his old lamp that sat on his desk, his arms still wound around a slim torso. He smiled to himself and snuggled a little closer. He looked down and took the opportunity to take in some of Bill’s delicate features, he would probably get punched if he ever voiced that any of his friends had delicate features but he didn’t care, Bill was beautiful. Mike ran his fingers gently down Bill’s side, at peace. The other boy shifted slightly in his sleep, the sleeve of his flannel sliding up his arm, revealing his wrist to Mike’s line of sight. Mike gasped, he sat up quickly and grabbed Bill’s wrist.

Bill woke with a start, his solid warm pillow suddenly gone, and realized just as quickly as he had woken up what Mike was staring out. He sat silently, allowing Mike to unbutton his sleeve and slide it even further up his thin arm. The older boy ran his thumb lightly over each of the scars that puckered up and marked Bill’s perfect skin. He could feel more tears prickling, he had known that Bill was battling depression and anxiety, Hell, all of the Losers were battling their own set of mental issues after everything they had been through, but he had no idea that it had come to this point. That Bill was hurting himself.

Bill waited. He waited for Mike to be disgusted. For Mike to be mad. For him to yell, or throw Bill out. What Bill wasn’t prepared for was to hear Mike sniffle and then softly press a kiss to each of the lines on Bill’s right arm, when he was done, he silently moved to the left and did the same. Bill remembered the cure all of childhood, a kiss to make any boo boo better. He swore that if anyone could cure an injury with a kiss it would be Michael Hanlon. The whole thing seemed so intimate, Bill felt warmth flash over his body, having Mike this close fawning over him. Bill was ashamed that his friend was seeing this side of him, that he now knew his secret.

After a few more minutes, Mike lifted his head, his brown eyes focusing on Bill’s. He couldn’t help himself, he placed his hand on Bill’s neck and cradled his head, moving forward and pressing his forehead against Bill’s. The other boy gasped slightly, fighting the sting of disappointment that only their foreheads were touching. Bill knew he didn’t deserve Mike or his affection, but his lips were mere inches from his own and he felt the longing in his bones. Mike’s breath evened out, chest no longer heaving from tears.

“Billy...I know it’s hard….I know you are hurting, but I can’t stand the thought of you actually hurting yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. We’ve both lost enough as it is, we need each other.” Mike breathed out in a hushed whisper tone. If they weren’t so close together, Bill doubts that he would be able to hear what he was saying at all. “Promise you won’t leave me, Bill. Promise you won’t hurt yourself. God, that’s selfish of me to ask. To ask you to swallow your pain for me...I just, I can’t let you fade away and leave me. I n-need you.” Both boys were crying at this point, for the second time that night sharing quiet secrets and clinging to each other.

Bill pulled back slightly, this time grabbing Mike by the sides of his face tenderly so that he had to look Bill in the eye, this was important for him to say. “I p-pr-romise, Mikey. I’m n-ne-ever going to l-leave you. I’ll be b-better. Promise you w-wo-on’t leave m-me either. You’re the only r-re-reason I even try most days.” Bill stuttered through his tears, pouring out his soul.

“I promise, baby. You’re never gonna be alone.” Mike assured him with one of his mega watt smiles. The kind that could light up the whole damn sky. Bill gave him a small smile in return and reached over to Mike’s bedside table to retrieve tissues so that they could wipe their red and puffy snot covered faces.

 

Later that night when they are sitting in the town bowling alley listening to Eddie whine and complain about how disgusting it is that he is expected to wear the same shoes that numerous other people have worn, because hello athlete’s foot and God knows what other foot fungi, and watching Stan organize the bowling balls by the sequential order in which their designated human would be bowling, they let their thighs press together. A subtle physical reminder that the other one is still there, just like they vowed to always be.


	3. Quarry Days and Secrets

** July 1992 **

 

The sun beat down harshly on Mike’s back as he finished up his chores in the field of his family’s farm. He made as quick of work of it as possible, because he knew that Bill would pop up shortly, begging him to come with him to join the other Losers for a swim at the quarry. For once, he wanted to be able to actually go and enjoy himself. To get off the damn farm for a while. 

He walked into the barn to put away his equipment, moving his head back and forth, feeling relief at the resulting pop. His back was tight, stress and overexertion caused massive damage to it. Mike felt hands move across his back, gingerly massaging his shoulders. He let his eyes close, and rested his hand on the wall so that he wouldn’t fall over. He only just narrowly kept his moan in.

“Jesus, Bill. Magic fingers, I swear to God.” He breathed out in appreciation. He wouldn’t mind those fingers all over his body. He then turned to his friend, letting him off the hook from massage duty. Bill let out a laugh and smiled brightly.

“Ready t-to go, Mikey?” Bill asked, “S-Stan said 2 on t-the d-dot, and you know h-how he gets.” Mike nodded, he knew. Stanley Uris was not a patient man.

“Yeah, let me just run inside, I want to change into some shorts.” Bill nodded and followed Mike into his house, he stopped in the kitchen to say hello to Grandma Hanlon and give her a hug. He had become a honorary member of the Hanlon family over the last year and a half, he was on the farm more than he was at his own house. He moved towards Mike’s bedroom, and nearly fell over when he walked in. 

Mike Hanlon was peeling his sweaty t-shirt over his head, small beads of sweat clinging to his well defined shoulders and muscles. Sixteen looked amazing on him, and Bill bit his lip. Mike wiggled his jeans down over his ass and hips, that ass, God the feelings Bill had about that ass...He pulled himself out of that thought. Mike was his best friend, he needed to stop fantasizing about him, Mike would never feel the same way about him. 

“Hey, Creeper?” Mike called over his shoulder, feeling Bill’s presence in the room like a homing beacon. Bill cringed.

“Y-ye-yeah?” He responded, voice shaking more than normal. Mike turned and cocked his head, wondering what had gotten his friend so flustered. Bill had to keep his head trained from looking at the other boy’s chest and abs. He recited Hail Marys in his head over and over again, willing his hormones to chill the fuck out. He really didn’t want to pop a boner over Mike, in front of Mike.

“Are you okay?” Mike stopped his train of thought on his original question, Bill nodded sheepishly. “Okay then...are we good to go? Grandma said that she made us some snacks.”

“V-vegit-arian snacks are g-good to go.” Bill said, holding up a basket that Grandma Hanlon had prepared for the club. Mike had been a vegetarian since he was forced to slaughter his first sheep, he couldn’t handle the thought of eating something that was alive, had a brain, could have had a nice little family if given the chance. Bill supported him in this of course, abstaining from meat while he was around Mike, which was most of the time.

The boys called out a goodbye to Mike’s grandparents and headed out the door. Bill tethered the basket of food to the back of silver, while Mike’s backpack held towels and sunscreen for Bill’s pasty ass self. Mike always packed sunscreen ever since he had watched Bill suffer in pain, skin beet red, irritated, and radiating heat from a particularly bad sunburn last summer. Mike couldn’t even hold him for comfort in fear of hurting the boy. Now he forced Bill to slather the stuff all over, despite any groans of protest.

 

They pulled up to the quarry at 1:58. Mike was still sweating and devising a plan to take the farm’s truck next time instead of biking. He waved to Ben and Bev who were sitting on the rocks chatting, as he dropped his bike and headed over to them. Bill went to check on Stan who had his binoculars pressed to his face, scoping out the birds that were in some of the trees. 

“H-hey, Stan. W-wh-ere are R-richie and Eddie?” Bill asked in greeting. He carefully sat on the edge of the rock where Stan was.

“Ugh. Who knows? Probably making out somewhere. You know that they are never actually on time, at least not since they got together.” Stan shrugged in reply. He wasn’t actually bitter about it, the whole group supported Richie and Eddie, it gave Bill hope that when he came out as well he would be supported. “Fuck them, let’s jump in, it’s hotter than hell today.” Bill nodded and they headed over to the others, stripping down to their swim trunks, they made a group decision to abandon the tighty whities as well, actually Bev had put her foot down and demanded it. Bill let Mike slather sunscreen all over his back, no point in protesting, and if he was honest it was nice to be cared for.

The five of them jumped in the water, splashing around and letting the cold water sooth them. Richie and Eddie joined a half hour later, Eddie’s neck predictably covered in fresh hickies and Richie screaming about how he brought the party because he was the party, a bottle of rum in his hand. They all rolled their eyes at him. The club stayed in the water a little longer before getting out and sitting in a circle.

They passed the bottle around, taking swigs of the sweet liquor. Richie suggested that they play a game at some point, they all groaned in protest but he finally got them to agree to play a few rounds of “Never Have I Ever”. It made both Bill and Mike a tad bit uncomfortable, they had dark secrets and this game could go either way. The game was intended to be lighthearted, but with their lives lighthearted was never a guarantee. 

“Sweeeeeet. I get to start.” Richie announced loudly, alcohol only advancing his normally over the top personality, “Never have I ever….had my wang sucked right here on this rocks...oh wait! I have!” Eddie flushed immediately while the rest of them guffawed in disgust moving quickly to stand up, no one wanted to be sitting somewhere with a history of Richie jizz.

“BEEP BEEP RICHIE!” Eddie called out, “It’s not true guys, Richie is just being a fucking asshole whose wang won’t be getting sucked anytime soon!” Richie’s face dropped and he pouted, while the rest of the Losers laughed. After a few minutes of continuous laughter, Ben called out.

“Alright, alright, let’s leave Trashmouth alone.” Everyone calmed down, turning their attention to Ben, Richie looked grateful., happy to no longer be the center of attention. “Never have I ever...battled depression.” The group let out a sigh and everyone took a sip from the bottle as it was passed around. Bill felt like knives were jabbing him, it was going to be one of those games. It was going to be serious and dark. It was Bev’s turn next.

“Never have I ever...planned to move far away from this fucking town.” Everyone hummed in agreement, once again taking a swig. More than half the bottle was gone now. Mike looked over to see that Bill had a flush on his face, he was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol, Mike could also see that he looked terrified of what questions would be next. Mike reached over and took Bill’s hand in his own to comfort him, if any of the other Losers had noticed they kept quiet about it.

“Okay...never have I ever…” Eddie started, “I don’t know guys...self-harmed.” Bill’s grip on Mike’s hand got tighter and his face went pale. He reached over to Richie before taking the bottle of rum and gulping three mouthfuls down. “Oh my God, Bill...I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to...I didn’t know.”

No one did. The only person who Bill had ever told was Mike, and that was really just because Mike had seen the scars and made him promise to try to stop. Bill had tried so hard to stay strong and keep his promise to Mike. The first couple of months were really hard, he relapsed a few times, the stress at home becoming too much, dark thoughts blooming in his mind. Each time, he would confess to Mike, who would bandage the other boy’s wrist and kiss the bandage, telling Bill about how strong he was and how he believed in him. Bill would start his counting streak again, feeling the need to cut lessen more and more as he spent more time with Mike. He had been clean for seven and a half months now. He relapsed hard on Christmas. His dad had beat the shit out of him, his mother had sat and done nothing, pretending that he didn’t even exist. Bill had locked himself in the bathroom and dug the blade into his wrists over and over again until blood was dripping all over the floor, he couldn’t get it to stop. Mike must have sensed that something was wrong in the universe, with his boy, because as Bill felt himself drifting Mike was bounding in the door. He held towels to Bill’s wrists and applied pressure until the bleeding died down. He looked at the wounds, making sure that Bill hadn’t hit his veins and that the blood was clotting, when he was sure that he didn’t have to take Bill to the hospital. When he determined that Bill was panicking over the blood and the wounds were only superficial, he carefully cleaned the wounds and wrapped them tightly with gauze and take. Bill was still sobbing, apologizing to Mike repeatedly, ashamed of what he had done. Mike pressed kisses to his face and held him tight, letting a few tears slip out of his eyes too, terrified of what could have happened if he didn’t get there in time. When they had both calmed down and separated, Mike helped Bill pack a few bags and had taken him back to his house. Bill had been mostly living with the Hanlons since then, he only returned to his house once or twice a week and usually regretted doing so. None of the other Losers knew anything about this.

“I-it’s o-okay, Eddie.” Bill finally responded, “Y-you d-d-didn’t know. I am in r-re-recovery now. I h-have been c-clean for s-seven months.” His friends showered him in loving words of encouragement. Bill appreciated the words, but drew the most comfort from Mike’s hand grasping his. The game ended, and they went back to just talking and drinking, finishing the bottle off as it was getting just a hint too dark. They separated ways as they headed home. 

Bill could hardly walk, let alone ride a bike. So Mike let Bev take his bike home, she could always hold her liquor, and stuck Bill on the back of Silver with strict instructions to hold onto his waist and not let go. 

 

They somehow survived the trek and Mike managed to sneak the very drunk boy into his house without his grandparents noticing. 

He sat Bill down on the edge of his bed, the other boy started giggling as Mike went to take off his shoes, a smile plastered across his face. He told Bill to strip down and get ready for bed while he went to the kitchen and filled two glasses with water and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. When he got back in his room, Bill was sprawled out across the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“You want to put some clothes on, Bill?” Mike asked, receiving an indignant shake back and forth of the head from Bill. He sure was a stubborn drunk. Mike went to grab pajamas out of one of his drawers, but was stopped when he heard Bill call out for him.

“Y-you too, M-mikey. N-no paj-jamas.” Bill stuttered out, the ghost of a smirk on his face. Mike shook his head, but stripped down to his boxers too and pulled the covers down so that they could get under them, he was not about to fight with Bill over their state of undress. “Your b-body is sooooooooooo p-perfect. Y-yummmm.” Bill moaned, eyes raking up and down Mike’s body. The other boy sighed, ignoring Bill’s drunken words. Bill didn’t mean it, never would, and even if he did it wouldn’t matter in this moment. He could never take advantage of Bill. He just got under the covers and waited for his friend to join. Bill did, and clung to him like an octopus.

Mike was used to this too. His nightmares had come back in the fall of the previous year. Some nights they were about his parents, others focused on IT, some nights it was a combination. He frequently was tormented in his sleep with the image of Pennywise waving at him from within that meatlocker while the screams of his victims rang out. The dreams had started out only happening once or twice a month, but by january he was having them once a week, most times more. Dark bags took up residence under his eyes, and he became sluggish. Bill had picked up on the change almost immediately and had sat his lanky self on Mike and wouldn’t move until Mike told him what was wrong. After finding out what was wrong with his friend, Bill had taken to sleeping over as much as he possibly could, wrapping his arms tightly around Mike as they slept, the physical contact helping to keep some of the demons at bay. On the nights when even that wasn’t enough, Bill would rub circles on Mike’s back and whisper sweet nothings until he could calm down enough to go back to sleep.

Mike loved the physical affection and comfort from Bill. Loved having someone to fall back on. It was nice to not feel like he had to do everything on his own.

“M-M-ik-e?” Bill slurred, alcohol still affecting his speech. Mike hummed in response, letting Bill know that he was listening. “W-will you t-tell me a s-secret? I have o-one to tell you.”

“Hmmm...a secret? That you don’t already know about?” Bill nodded, “Okay. Before I became friends with you guys, I used to get attacked a lot by Henry and his goons. You already know that, but not to the extent. Patrick was the worst. He used to call me the n-word...” the other boy shuddered, Bill hated the idea that anyone would let skin color affect their opinion of his beautiful boy, that they would hurt him for it, “Henry would also through around the f-word, and call me a sissy, just to get a reaction. And it hurt, because in my heart I knew that just because I was different didn’t mean that I deserved the hate. But after a while my mind turned dark,...and I started to believe them. That my skin color was a problem...that...that who I am is a problem. While they were beating me I wished that they would have the strength to just kill me. To end it all.” Mike continued and Bill gasped.

“No, Mikey. No.” Bill was looking him dead in his eyes, tears forming, “Y-you d-don’t s-still feel that w-way? Y-you promised t-to s-st-stay!” He cried, obviously upset.

“Of course not, Billy. I’ve got you...and the other Losers now. I have a reason to keep living.” Bill smiled and lunged forward pressing a quick kiss to Mike’s cheek. They both blushed.

“M-mikey, I’m r-ready to t-t-tell y-you my s-secret…” Bill forced out, he was nervous and it showed in how his voice trembled and his stutter intensified. Mike nodded for him to continue. “I...I...I love you, Mike.” 

“I love you too, Big Bill. You know that don’t you?” Bill wasn’t one to toss around words of affection, but he was drunk. Mike figured that his lack of inhibitions were just allowing him to show how he valued Mike as a friend.

“No.” Bill replied sadly, “I l-love y-you, Mike. I w-want you to l-love me too.” Mike wasn’t understanding what Bill was saying and it was very frustrating for the drunk boy, so he surged forward and kissed Mike right on the lips. Mike was shocked at what Bill had just done, and pulled away with wide eyes.

“Oh.”


	4. Tomato Juice and Promises

**July 1992**

 

Bill’s head was pounding. Everything hurt. His heart ached painfully in his chest. Memories from the night before starting to come back to him. He had told Mike that he was in love with him, and Mike didn’t say it back. He said, “oh”. That’s it. Bill remembered that syllable, the syllable that broke his heart. He had turned his back to Mike and started sobbing. Mike had tried to talk to him at first, but Bill wasn’t listening, and eventually Mike got up and took a pillow and blanket to go sleep on the couch.

Bill heard a knock on the bedroom door and he winced, the sound drilling itself into his brain. The door swung open carefully and Mike stood in the doorframe, Bill wanted to bury his head back in the pillow and escape whatever was about to come next.

“Hey Bill, can I come in?” Mike asked sheepishly, tapping his fingers against the mug in his hand.

“It’s y-your fucking r-room, Michael.” Bill spit out, hurt still thick in his voice. Did Mike really have to kick him when he was down? Couldn’t they have the rejection talk when he wasn’t hungover as hell? Mike sighed and walked towards Bill, sitting on the edge of his bed. 

“Look, I know that you’re pissed off at me, but I want the chance to explain. You shut down last night, and wouldn’t hear anything I had to say.”  He pleaded, looking at the other boy. He looked like shit, it wasn’t surprising considering how much he had drank, and that he had revealed a dark secret to the rest of the Losers Club. Bill scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting like a child. Bill was used to always having to be the strong one. “Jesus fucking Christ Bill, could you stop acting like a petulant child? Here, drink this, it will help with your head.” Mike grumbled, handing the mug to Bill. He accepted the mug, anything to help his headache would be a relief even if it came from his least favorite person right now, and took a swig. He coughed and gagged almost immediately.

“WHAT I-IN THE F-FU-FUCKING HE-HELL MIKE???”  Bill squawked, the taste clinging to his tongue, why would Mike do that?

“It’s just tomato juice.” Mike laughed a bit at Bill’s reaction. “It’s an old Hanlon hangover cure, I thought it would be a peace offering.”

“Gahhhhhhh,” Bill pulled a face at the mention of tomatoes, “I h-hate fucking t-tomato juice, as m-my best f-friend I figured y-you’d know that. Or d-do you just n-not care an-anymore?”

“Who said I didn’t care, Billy? I sure as hell didn’t. You never even let me respond, you just shut down.” Bill went to interrupt him, but Mike was determined to get his truth out. “You surprised me, Bill. I...I…”

“You d-don’t have f-feelings like t-that for me.” Bill finished for him, Mike glared, Bill knew that he hated it when people put words in his mouth.

“No you idiot. You were drunk off your ass and I didn’t want to do something that you would regret!” Mike was angry as hell, “I didn’t want you to wake up today and decide that it had just been a drunken mistake. That would kill me, Bill. It would fucking kill me if you said it was all a joke. Because I do care about you….I do have those feelings for you, and you only wanted to kiss me because you were drunk.”

“N-no, Mike.” Bill looked like he was panicking, like he had made a huge mistake. “I d-didn’t just k-kiss you because I w-was drunk, I’ve w-wanted to do it f-for a long t-time. I w-was just s-scared.” Bill confessed sincerely. 

“Bill…” Mike warned, but Bill was leaning forward and pressing his lips to Mike’s again, this time the other boy responded quickly. He slid his hand up to cup Bill’s jaw and pushed the other boy back until her was laying in between the v of his legs. He kept kissing him, the two of them pushing and pulling from each other. Mike only pulled away when he felt Bill’s hips rock up into his. “Slow down there, Killer. We’ve got nothing but time.”

Bill beamed up at him.

  
  


**February 1993**

 

“What if I don’t want to stay here and work the farm for the rest of my life?” Mike asked pacing back and forth in his and Bill’s bedroom. 

Bill had officially moved in last September, Mike’s grandparents had gotten him his own dresser and helped him bring over his measly few boxes of belongings. They never questioned why the boys insisted that they didn’t need two beds, they knew how they drew comfort from each other and had seen first hand how much Bill had helped Mike. When Grandma Hanlon had caught the boys in a compromising position right before Christmas, they were merely sat down and rules were discussed, no judgement, no hatred, just solid loving parenting. 

“Then y-you don’t s-stay here.” Bill responded, flipping through one of Richie’s comic books, looking for some inspiration for his multimedia art project. Mike scoffed, and Bill tried not to roll his eyes, they had had this conversation many times in the past couple of months. Mike’s grandfather had found some brochures that Mike had gotten from different colleges, quite a few of them were interested in him for football scholarships. Mike was more focused on their history programs, it was his passion and something he knew he could focus on when sports faded away. His grandfather threw a fit, demanding that Mike throw the papers away and get his head out of his ass, that someone would have to stay and take over the farm. Mike wanted so bad to flip the handle then and there, but Bill had pulled him away and gotten him to calm down, there was no benefit in fighting fire with fire. Mike would approach his grandfather when he could be calm with logical arguments, since then Mike had been building his case, having small disagreements with his grandfather but trying to keep the peace. 

“Billllllllllllllll.” Mike dragged out, flopping on the bed next to him, “I need your help.” He pouted, trying to pull his boyfriend’s attention from his work.

“No, Baby. Y-you need to j-just speak from your h-heart and tell P-pops how you f-feel. He’s either g-going to accept it or n-not, you need to m-make peace with t-that.” Bill sighed and closed the book, setting it on the nightstand. “T-this project is r-really important, Mike. N-Notre Dame requires an e-ex-extensive p-portfolio for their art p-program.”

“Notre Dame, huh?” Bill nodded and Mike smiled at him, “Amazing art school, great history program, and scholarships for football and baseball. It’s a good fit for us.”

“Y-yeah. It is.” Bill agreed, waiting for the con list that Mike no doubt had in his mind.

“And it’s far away from here…” Mike buried his face in Bill’s neck, mind racing around in his head.

“I can hear your brain overworking,” Bill said, pressing a kiss to Mike’s forehead, “How about I do something that will take your mind off of this for right now?” Mike seemed to perk up at that, and Bill moved to kneel between his boyfriend’s legs and got to work on the button of his jeans.

Mike’s head tilted back into his pillow, letting the pleasure from his boyfriend’s super skilled tongue take over his whole body. 

 

**July 1993**

 

Bill was running late, it was their fucking one year anniversary and he was late. Mike was going to be so pissed off at him.  They had been planning this dinner for a month, and all was going according to plan until he had run into Richie in front of the barber shop. God damn fucking Richie and his shenanigans. Richie had pocketed two packs of cigarettes from the general store. Bill had wound up guilty by association and receiving a lecture from Eddie, that he couldn’t escape without revealing his relationship with Mike to the couple.

Bill and Mike had discussed coming out to the other Losers, but they were worried about changing the dynamic. First it was Ben and Beverly, then it was Richie and Eddie, each time the group had shifted and when they came out Stan would be the odd man out, they decided to tell them after they reached one year, and that they would do it together. So Bill kept his mouth shut and then raced to pick up flowers and Mike’s favorite chocolates before hoping in the truck and heading home. 

He pulled up at the farmhouse fifteen minutes late. Fifteen. He braced himself for whatever attitude awaited him inside. He pushed the door open and called out for Mike, “H-hey Babe, I’m s-s-so sorry that I’m l-late, I r-ran into R-Ri-ichie and he w-was running away from s-some shop owner and…” Bill froze as he took in the sight in front of him.

Mike had lit candles and placed them around the dining room, some smooth jazz played on the record player and the whole house smelled like a delicious combination of Bill’s favorite foods. Homemade mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, chicken fried portobello caps, and eggplant parmesan sat in dishes on the table. Bill’s eyes watered as he looked up at Mike, feeling so much care and love. The older boy smiled at him, warm and genuine, and Bill rushed to him. He dropped the flowers and chocolates onto the table and pulled Mike in for a deep kiss. They rested their foreheads against each other’s when they pulled away, savoring the moment. 

“Did you really buy me flowers and chocolates, William?” Mike laughed, looking at the bouquet of yellow flowers on the table. Bill rolled his eyes and nodded, picking up the parcels to officially present them to Mike.

“It s-seemed like a r-romantic thing t-to do for the m-man I l-love.” Bill teased, he knew Mike appreciated the gesture, and would stingily hoard the chocolates until they were all gone. 

“So romantic, Billy.” Mike kissed him again, before pulling away announcing that the food was going to get cold and that he was not allowing this dinner and all of his hard work to go to waste. They ate, Bill moaning at the wonderful tastes he was experiencing. Mike was an amazing cook, Bill swore up and down that if he decided that he didn’t want to go after a history degree that he should open his own restaurant. After they finished, Bill helped Mike clear the table and Mike pulled out a plate of fresh baked brownies for dessert, Bill nearly dropped to one knee and asked him to marry him right then and there at the age of seventeen, but he refrained. They could wait a bit longer for that commitment.

They decide to exchange presents after dessert, real presents, not the “I’m sorry, I’m late” flowers and chocolates from earlier. Mike unwrapped his presents first, Bill had worked really hard on recreating a picture that Stan had taken of the two of them. Saying that it showed their friendship perfectly. It had taken him weeks and Mike praised the work, holding the frame to his chest. His second present was a first edition of his favorite novel, he had no idea how Bill had managed to get his hands on it, or pay for it, but it was absolutely amazing. Mike placed a kiss to Bill’s lips, thanking him.

Bill was next and he looked at Mike confused when he passed over a tiny box. He opened it to find a smaller black velvet box that contained two silver and gold bands, his heart stopped in his chest and he looked up at Mike for clarification.

“They’re promise rings. One for each of us.” He said with a tentative smile, Bill had tears running down his face, happy tears, how in the world did he get so lucky with this man? “I want to be with you forever, Bill, and I know that we are too young to get married, but I wanted to show how committed I am to you…”

“I l-love you so f-fucking much, Michael H-Hanlon. I w-want to s-spend my whole l-life with you t-too. Always and f-forever.” Mike smiled at his love, eyes watering, and slid Bill’s promise ring on his left ring finger. Bill did the same for Mike and they closed the distance between them for a loving kiss. “H-hey Mikey?” Bill murmured, and Mike hummed for Bill to continue. “I...I think I’m r-ready.”

“Are you sure, Baby?” Mike said with wide eyes. “We don’t have to. If you’re not ready, I don’t want you to think that you have to.” Complete sincerity in his voice. 

They had never gone all the way and had intercourse. Bill wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of it, scared of how it would feel. Mike had offered to let Bill top, but the younger boy had shut it down immediately. He wanted to feel Mike in that way, to let him all the way in, but he just wasn’t ready at the time, and Mike understood completely. They jerked each other off, had oral sex, and had experimented with some rimming and a finger or two, but that was where they drew the line. Mike always felt that emotional intimacy played a bigger part in a strong relationship then sex anyway. He wanted Bill to always feel comfortable.

“I’m sure. I l-love you, Mikey.” Bill pulled Mike in for another kiss before they frantically blew all the candles out and went to their room, greatful to have the house to themselves for the night. 

That night they made love, and the next day in their regular booth at the diner they told their friends that they were together. Bev punched both of them in the arm for hiding it for a year and Richie made his usual jokes, nothing changed it was as if it had always been this way.

 

** June 1998 **

 

Bill straightened his bow tie in the mirror for the twelfth time. He wanted everything to look perfect.

“For the love of...Bill, you look great, would you knock it off?” Stan chided, walking over to Bill and slapping his hands away, fixing the bow tie. “Don’t fucking touch it again. Are you ready? It’s about to start, we just got the two minute countdown.” Bill nodded, trying to be calm. Stan pulled him to the set of cherry doors, and sent a wink over his shoulder before ducking through them and taking his place. 

It was Bill’s turn next, the doors opened revealing the simple aisle that lead to the altar where his best friend and the love of his life Mike Hanlon stood waiting to marry him and start the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Mike and Bill's love origin story is done. I'm considering writing an epilogue about what their lives end up like after they get married, but only if people are actually interested in reading it.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading my little story with a totally underrated pairing and baring with me attempting to write affection without jumping into smut like my other stories. Hopefully you enjoyed it and it was worth the time. ❤️❤️❤️

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr- thegreatwhiteferret
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to write a lot more for the IT fandom, especially with pairings who don't get a lot of attention or credit, so if you have any requests I am game to give it a shot.


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